


In the Breaths Between

by Piccolo_is_green



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-14 18:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10542213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piccolo_is_green/pseuds/Piccolo_is_green
Summary: There is more to the curse than Belle first thought, and she is determined to break it, though she doesn't know how.Based on the 2017 movie. A series of moments that the movie doesn't show.





	1. Chapter 1

Belle left the Beast’s quarters and returned to her room in the East Wing, where she stripped down to her shift and climbed into bed, but she felt far too restless to sleep. She tossed and turned in the dark, the bruise on her hip tender, and every time she closed her eyes she saw the wolves in the dark, and heard the Beast’s roar as he defended her.

She was angry at him, but she felt guilty, too, and the weight of it sat heavy on her heart. She hated seeing anyone hurt, even the Beast, and the deep wounds that marred his arm and shoulder worried her. There in the dark, she imagined the Beast’s wounds festering, him growing sick and weak, dying as the village physician had last year after being bit by his horse.

She rose, fumbling for her dress in the dark, until a single candlestick lit her flame with a sigh and filled the room with a dim light. “I’m sorry for waking you,” Belle told the candle, “but I couldn’t sleep. I hope you don’t mind if I take you with me.” The candlestick merely shook her head.

She didn’t bother dressing in her boots, instead wandering barefoot through the castle, climbing the staircase to the crumbling West Wing as quietly as possible. It was by far the gloomiest area of the palace, and she wondered why the Beast chose these rooms to stay in.

The Beast’s door was ajar when she approached it, and no servants were to be found. She was thankful for this, as she had no explanation for being there at this hour. She tiptoed over to the Beast’s bed, careful not to make any noise.

She let out a breath she had been holding as she saw his wounds were already beginning to heal. His chest rose and fell in deep slumber, and in this state he looked far less terrifying than before. Tentatively, she reached out a hand and touched the back of this to his forehead. He felt warmer than a human man, but she knew this to be normal for him, and she relaxed further as her concern melted. He would not die tonight, and the weight of her guilt lifted.

“You’re up late, dearie.”

Belle gasped with fright, jumping from the shock and almost dropping the candlestick. The Beast shifted in his bed, a growl rumbling in his throat, and she stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide and heart hammering in her chest. But the Beast settled back into the easy rhythm of sleep, and Belle turned to address Mrs Potts.

“I wanted to check if he had a fever,” she whispered unapologetically.

Mrs Potts nodded, her small feet shuffling underneath her. “Of course you did. Come down the kitchen; I’ll brew you a chamomile tea. It’ll help you sleep.”

Belle was once again thankful for Mrs Potts’ understanding nature. “I’ll carry you,” she whispered to the teapot, and lifted Mrs Potts from the floor. They were both silent on the way back to the kitchen, where Belle set both Mrs Potts and the candlestick down on the table. The candlestick closed her eyes in relief, and fell promptly asleep.

“Poor Susanne,” Mrs Potts whispered. “She has suffered from this curse more than most. It seems everyone from the guest rooms can’t stay awake for long. _Oh!_ ” she squeaked, as the stove leaned over and ladled boiling water into her.

Belle remained silent, for once at a loss for words. She stared into the fire burning under the stove as she waited for the tea to brew, feeling so very alone for someone surrounded but living objects.

“You were worried about him,” Mrs Potts spoke after some time. A cup – not Chip – slid towards Belle across the table, and the smell of chamomile drifted through the air.

“Yes. He’s right; it’s my fault he was hurt.”

“And you’re right; it’s his fault you ran away. That boy always had a temper, but it has grown much worse since he became a Beast. The curse has affected him so.”

Belle could hear the pity in Mrs Potts’ voice. “You really love him, don’t you?” she asked quietly.

“Oh yes. Like I told you, we’ve watched him since he was a sweet boy. Now drink, dearie, and then it’s off to bed with you.”

Belle sipped her tea obediently, finishing it off and setting the cup back on its saucer. “I was worried about his wounds. Animal bites can fester.”

“They can,” Mrs Potts agreed, “but this curse has its benefits, however small. His wounds always heal quickly. He’s been bitten by wolves before, you know. Now don’t you worry about him, child. Off to bed. You can visit him in the morning.”

Belle nodded, rising and taking the candlestick, who yawned and shifted in her hand. As she climbed back into bed, Mrs Potts’ words echoed in her mind.

_He’s been bitten by wolves before._

That night she dreamed of snapping jaws and a wolf’s snarling face biting down on the corner of her cloak, and of a beast that carried her in his big arms to the safety of her waiting father.


	2. Chapter 2

Belle brought a book along with her when she went to check on the Beast in the morning.

He lay sleeping in his bed, though he wore a fresh linen shirt under the blankets. “He rose at dawn,” Lumière explained in hushed tones as Belle set her book down on the chair beside the bed. “He said he was chilled.”

Concerned, Belle leaned over the bed and placed a hand to the Beast’s furred forehead. He felt cooler to the touch, and as she pulled her hand away his eyes opened. Her hand settled on the edge of the blanket as he regarded her, the blue of his eyes – the most human part of him – vivid in the morning light that shone through the window.

“How do you feel?” she asked quietly. The Beast closed his eyes again with a sigh so deep that his body seemed to deflate a little.

“Tired,” he spoke, his deep voice holding none of the menace that she had seen in the days before.

“I’ll leave you to sleep, then,” she whispered, beginning to turn away.

“No. Stay,” the Beast replied, though his eyes did not open again. “You can read your book to me.”

 She hesitated, disliking the fact that it sounded like an order. Still, it was rare for anyone to request that she read, and so she sat down, propped her feet up on Froufrou’s back, and opened to the front page.

The Beast dozed as she read, and as the sunlight streaked across the room to warm her, she felt at peace here in this strange palace, surrounded by these strange creatures.


	3. Chapter 3

Belle watched the rise and fall of the Beast’s chest as he slept, feeling more and more unsure about her present predicament. They’d discussed Shakespeare, _Don Quixote_ , and _The Odyssey_ between his bouts of sleep, and she was beginning to see the _prince of a fellow_ that Mrs. Potts had mentioned shine through, despite his beastly exterior.

He was still too unwell to rise from his bed for anything more than a visit to the water closet. She set her book down again – she was reading _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ for the third time, having found the book in her room – and rose, stretching her arms and feeling the tension in her back. After a day attending to the Beast she felt restless, and decided a walk in the garden was in order.

“ _Mademoiselle_ , where are you going?” Lumière asked as she passed him on her way down the crumbling stairs.  She heard the anxiety in his voice, and felt the many eyes of the castle’s servants watching her.

“For a walk in the garden,” she answered. “The sun is out, and I want to stretch my legs. Don’t worry; I’ll be back for dinner.”

She didn’t wait for Lumière’s reply. As magical as it was, and as sorry as she felt for the cursed servants, the fact that she was never truly alone in the castle (for _almost all_ the objects were alive) left her feeling a little suffocated. Fresh air was exactly what she needed.

She wrapped her coat and hood around her as she stepped out (this time the door let her go), squinting as she was momentarily blinded by the frozen landscape. The sun hung low in the sky, making the icicles that hung from everything sparkle like jewels.

She walked through the maze of hedges, out past the colonnade and rose bushes, until she reached the massive wrought iron fence that surrounded the perimeter of the castle. A wolf howled in the distance, and a chill ran up her spine.

She followed the fence around until she reached the gate, and froze at the sight before her, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

The doors to the gate had swung open in the wind that blew through from the black forest beyond the castle grounds, and in the gateway stood the pack of wolves, their lips pulled back in matching snarls. She stood still, anticipating an attack.

_And this time the Beast is not here to save me._

But the wolves did not move any closer, and Belle began to realise that within the palace grounds, she was safe. She stepped forward, until she was close enough that she could smell their breaths, until the constant growling made her stomach churn, and still the wolves remained where they were, snapping their jaws at her but unable to move past the invisible barrier.

“It’s part of the curse, isn’t it?” she asked the wolves. Another chill ran up her spine as a thought occurred to her. “ _Who_ are _you?_ Who were you, before the curse?”

The largest wolf lunged suddenly, rearing up on his hind legs against the barrier, jaws just an inch from her face, and she fell back in fright. Lying there in the snow, she remembered something from her childhood that she had somehow forgotten; a similar black forest, the howl of wolves, sharp teeth fastened on the edge of her coat.

She rose quickly, turning away from the wolves and running back to palace, feeling entirely unsettled. The memories were flooding her mind thick and fast now, somehow dislodged by her encounter with these wolves. She collapsed on the stairs outside, her breath coming in quick pants, making little clouds in the cold air.  She remembered. She _remembered._

_She was ten, and they were leaving the village she had known since she was a baby behind. Her father told her it was safer this way; there were too many people in outskirts of Fontainebleau for it to be safe. He spoke of the plague, and she imagined a black cloud covering the earth around them._

_Villeneuve would be smaller, safer, he told her. They stopped and made camp on the edge of a great forest, and she fell asleep at once, exhausted from their travels._

_But in the night she woke and rose from her makeshift bed, and walked, as if something was drawing her into the forest. It began to snow, and a wolf howled in the distance._

“Mademoiselle! Belle! _Sacré dieu_ _, are you all right?”_

_Belle started at the noise, and found both_ Lumière and Cogsworth out in the snow, peering up at her with concern. She gave them a wan smile, and rose to her feet, brushing the snow off of her skirts. “I’m fine,” she answered as convincingly as she could. “Just hungry,” she added honestly.

“Well come come, inside then, and we will have a feast! Be our guest!” Lumière’ cried, turning and stepping through the open door. Belle waited for Cogsworth to waddle on in before she followed suit, breathing a sigh of relief as the door closed behind her.

She ate quietly throughout dinner, mulling over her confused thoughts. Afterwards, she sat in front of the fire and sipped absently at her tea, until Mrs. Potts piped up, clearly unable to bear it any longer.

“Something bothering you, dear?”

“You said the – ” Belle began, pausing, the word _Beast_ on the tip of her tongue. It felt wrong to call him that, and she realised with shame that she had not bothered to learn his real name. “You said your master,” she began again, “has been bitten by wolves before. How long ago was that?”

“Oh my, a very long time. It was not long after we were cursed.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“A decade,” Cogsworth chimed in from somewhere by her feet. “These fools can’t keep track of the time, but I’ve been counting. It’s been a decade.”

“That’s an awfully long time to be cursed,” Belle murmured apologetically. Chip nodded, squirming in her hand, until she set him down beside his mother. “I’m sorry.”

And she was very sorry for them, but this new information also made the wheels in her mind turn, for she was twenty now, and had been ten when she came to Villeneuve, and – she frowned, staring into the fire, the heat reminding her of _something_ , though the memories that had been dredged up earlier had begun to fade now. She could not recall what had happened to her in the forest as a child.

But there was one thing that Belle knew for certain. The wolves were also part of the Enchantress’ curse, and she had met them before.


End file.
